


Koujaku Week- Day 3- Tattoo/Scars

by angededesespoir



Series: Koujaku Week [1]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Koujaku Week, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, alcohol mention, he's fighting noiz but noiz isn't actually mentioned that much, i wrote this when i should have been sleeping or doing hw, implied/referenced trauma, self-hate, this is koujaku-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angededesespoir/pseuds/angededesespoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Introspection during a fight with Noiz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Koujaku Week- Day 3- Tattoo/Scars

**Author's Note:**

> _[Well, lookie here- my first post. You can also view this work[here](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/149459833080/day-3-tattooscars).]_
> 
> _Did somebody say they wanted angst?! …..No? Well…..Oops….._
> 
>    
>   _(So…..Kinda took a break from the fandom for awhile, forgot like half the things that happened in the game, annnddd….. now I’m back. And I need to replay the games at some point. But anyway! My DMMD feels returned just in time for Koujaku Week ~~which I just learned about yesterday- oops *Sweating*~~. And this is my first time writing Koujaku. I hope this sounds okay. Please enjoy~.)_

_  
_

      It should be more satisfying than it is when the blade pierces Noiz's flesh- deep enough to scar- but in actuality, it is more taunt, more torture, than victory or pleasure.  
    If he's being honest, it's always been like this. Each strike a reminder of the bloodied hands that could not -cannot- be cleaned. Each man that fell became his mother & the servants. A carefully placed smirk concealed a cry.  Confident stance hid trembling limbs.

    He felt the ache of tattoo spread with each swing he took, felt the dread clenching his throat in vice-grip.  A constant fear in the back of his mind- he smirks and throws insults, so they don’t see, don’t know-  he is still that boy at heart.  Weak to his rage and even weaker to that- that- ..... _ **monster**_.

_Distracted_ \- when the hand, with jagged metal, slices into his skin, defaces the tattoo- it is a mercy ( _though he feigns anger- it’s easy, considering his opponent_ ).  ( _He almost wishes to thank him, but settles for curses and goading instead._ )  He hopes it will scar, distract their lingering eyes from the monstrosities covering his form.

  


    Mizuki will be upset if it happens.  He doesn’t know of Koujaku’s whole past, why he secretly hates his body so much he will gladly get himself maimed in battle.    
    Mizuki admires the tattoos, curses each scar that disrupts their beauty.  When he gets drunk, sometimes he’ll trace them, with hands no longer steady, whisper how he longs to add to such beauty.

And Koujaku feels sick.

    Feels even sicker when the other night Mizuki accidentally pulls his sleeve too hard, finally sees the flowers he tries to pretend don’t exist.  He tries not to flinch, tries not to get mad or allow the anxiety to consume him.   _‘He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.  .....He doesn’t need to.’_  

    In the morning Mizuki awakes.  Koujaku is long gone, and Mizuki doesn’t remember what happened.  His head is pounding and there’s bruises on his arm who’s origin he can’t place.

    There’s a note on the counter, informing him of Koujaku’s plans.  He tries not to worry.   _‘It’s just another fight.’_

  


_It’s just another fight._  In a long war with himself. 

    The kid makes his blood boil, the way he challenges him, the way he goes after Aoba.  He want’s to-    
_  
Metal meets Metal_.  His arm tenses with strain and fury.

_.....But what would Aoba think?  How would he react if he saw Koujaku release the beast?_

_.....What would he do if he hurt Aoba, too?_

    He clinches his teeth, strikes again.  

    He mustn’t think like that.  He must not even flirt with the idea that it could be a possibility.  No matter what happened or who he was up against, he had to keep up this confident, tough, kind façade.

_Another blow- deep, deeper._

    Each scar a man presented to the world told the story of his life, his fight to survive.  

    But nobody need know the extent of his.  

    Least of all Aoba.....  



End file.
